


The Spirit of Christmas

by EonAO3



Series: Picture Perfect [14]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Baby’s First Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas With Family, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Love Stories, Married Life, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: Baby Stan has arrived, just in time for the holidays. And proud papa, Sebastian Stan, can’t wait to start making memories.
Relationships: Sebastian Stan & Reader, Sebastian Stan & You, Sebastian Stan/Reader, Sebastian Stan/You
Series: Picture Perfect [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/408799
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	The Spirit of Christmas

“Hey.” 

“Hey, momma.”

You snickered to yourself, grinning and giving your head a small shake as you pushed the apartment door shut behind you and threw the locks. You put your keys and purse down on the table by the door, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to hang on the hook on the wall. Fishing your phone out of your purse, you turned back toward the living room, wondering, “How was it?”

“Fine,” he grinned up at you. “Nap time.”

You glanced down the hall toward the open doorways of the hall. “Been sleeping long?”

A quick check of his watch told him, “About 20 minutes.”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” you nodded distractedly. 

“Don’t you dare go pick up that baby,” he told you, without taking his eyes off the iPad in his lap. 

A crooked grin came to your lips and your head made a slightly indignant tilt. “I wasn’t going to,” you promised, still fighting the urge to do exactly what you said you wouldn’t. “I was just asking.”

“Sure you were,” he snorted, with a knowing raise of his chin. You sat down beside him on the couch and he asked, “How was your massage?”

“Ohh,” you happily sighed, letting your head fall back to the cushion behind you and wiggling your shoulders to slouch comfortably, “it was heavenly. Thank you.” 

“Good,” he beamed over at you. “Did you schedule the next one yet?”

“Monday,” you nodded.

Thoughtful husband, and now father, that Sebastian was, he bought you a massage package from a highly recommended spa that offered postnatal treatments. It was an early Christmas present. Your little bundle of joy arrived at the top of the month, right on time. With all the chaos of a new baby and Christmas right around the corner, Sebastian figured you could use a little pampering to help you get through the holiday rush. Thankfully, the two of you had started shopping early, knowing you were going to have your hands plenty full come December. 

Your parents had come into town to stay for that first week. Between yours and Sebastian’s mothers, you had plenty of help while you rested and got back on your feet. Presents were already wrapped by the end of Thanksgiving weekend. Sebastian set up the tree and decorated the living room a couple days after you came home from the hospital. 

Both of your schedules were clear until after the new year. You entertained visits from friends wanting to meet the new addition to your little family and spent any quiet time the two of you had to yourselves cuddled up together watching Christmas movies. It was an adjustment to make, having a newborn at home, but you were fumbling through as well as could be expected. Even the dog was figuring things out. 

Whenever, and wherever, the baby was asleep, Beau could be found lying in a straight line with his nose pointed at his tiny human. You had jokingly asked if they did Botox for dogs for the near constant wrinkle in his brow, head rising and his ears pricking at every little sigh or snore he heard. And amusing you to no end by how concerned he seemed about it all.

“Got any thoughts on dinner?” Sebastian spoke up.

“M mm,” you hummed. 

“Better start thinking about it soon,” he warned.

“I know,” you nodded, picking your head up off the couch. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian looked over from the Google results he’d been scrolling. A shy smile took over his face, when he saw you craning your neck to try and peek past the glare on the screen from the lamp at the end of the couch. He snorted awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck, admitting, “Looking for a Santa.”

You blinked, your brow knitting in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?” you shook your head. 

He shrugged. “You know...Santa Claus.”

“I’m familiar,” you agreed, with a wary nod. “But why? It’s a little late in the year to be worried about the Naughty List, don’t you think?” 

“You think I’m on the Naughty List?” he scoffed.

“Well,” you sweetly smiled, batting your eyelashes his way, “not with me, you’re not.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled.

“But seriously,” you prompted, gently nudging your elbow to his side. “What are you looking up Santa for?”

“Not looking him up,” he said. “Looking for him.”

You couldn’t help teasing, “Oh? Did he move out of the North Pole? I hadn’t heard.”

Sebastian smirked and shook his head. “No,” he began, “I want to find a Santa to take “first Christmas” pictures with. Hopefully, someone who’ll come to us. There’s no way we’re taking a newborn to stand in line at Macy’s, or wherever.” He swept his head, eyes back on his search, considering, “All those people, flu season, and whatever the hell else… Can you imagine?”

You could, and your brow rose at the thought that, “God, I bet a mall Santa’s beard is just a petri dish of child-borne diseases.”

Sebastian’s gaze met yours, his face blank for a moment, before he gave a single, slow nod, solemnly saying, “That is the single most horrifying thing I’ll think about all day. Thank you for that.”

You snickered, behind your tight lipped grin. “Sorry.”

“You’re probably right, though,” he conceded, his hand reaching up to take hold of something imaginary in front of him. “Little grubby hands grabbing his beard all day…”

You laughed at the shudder that went through his shoulders. “Then why are you still looking for Santas?”

“Because,” he figured, “these Santas for hire probably don’t see as many kids as the department store ones.” He tipped his head, allowing, “Maybe. ...Probably. I don’t know, but it’ll be a cute picture.”

“She’ll be too small to even remember it,” you pointed out. “Besides, this close to Christmas?” you worried. “It’d be a miracle to get an appointment. And probably cost an arm and a leg.”

“I know,” he reluctantly nodded. “But there’s gonna be a day when some a-hole kid at school, or whatever, is gonna tell her there is no Santa, and she might be small enough to still believe, and if you show her a picture of her with Santa, in her own living room with her Christmas tree and her mom and dad,” He shrugged. “then maybe she can have that magic a little longer, ya know?” You nodded, and he added, “I’d pay anything to let her have that.”

“Worth every penny,” you agreed, with a thoughtful nod. You reached in, pointing at his tablet. “How about him?” you suggested. “He’s got a real beard. Definitely the most Santa-looking on the page.” A smile came to you, realizing, “Oh, my god, he looks like Richard Attenborough.”

“From ‘Miracle on 34th Street’,” he agreed, his own grin spreading over his lips at the idea.

“My first thought was ‘Jurassic Park’, actually,” you admitted with a shrug, “but, yeah, same difference.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. He sat up, reaching for his phone on the coffee table and deciding, “I’m gonna call him.” 

“We’re calling Santa Claus,” you giggled, watching Sebastian dial.

“The  _ best _ Santa Claus,” he corrected. “Our little girl’s getting Richard Attenborough.”

“The Cadillac of Santas,” you confidently nodded. 

“Shh. It’s ringing,” he whispered.

“Put it on speaker,” you insisted. “I want to talk to Santa.”

With a soft snort, Sebastian took his phone away from his ear and tapped the speaker button, holding the phone between you to hear it ring. Your eyes went wide with a thrill, one hand excitedly smacking Sebastian in the arm and the other clamping over your mouth gaping open at hearing the kindly voice on the other end of the line answer the call with a friendly “hello?” and a soft accent.

“Shut. up!” you mouthed, as Sebastian waved you away, trying not to smile too much as he spoke to “Santa”.

You could hardly contain your giddiness. By the time Sebastian got off the phone, several minutes later, you were practically ready to burst. Sebastian hung up and put his phone back on the table, with a proud grin.

“Oh, my god,” you grinned, your arms folded up and hands balled near your chin in anticipation. “Did we just hire Richard Attenborough to be our Santa?”

With a discerning crease in his brow, Sebastian gave a narrow sweep of his head. “Pretty sure Attenborough is dead, honey.”  
  
Unfazed, you shrugged, deciding, “Then we hired the Spirit of Christmas.”

Sebastian laughed out loud, nodding, “Yeah. I guess we did.”


End file.
